Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Antigua and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Gerry Rafferty to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Crispian St. Peters. All the underground hits.
All Spoonie Gee tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tubeway Army record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Quantec record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Quantec,
The Last Poets,
The Blues Magoos,
Agitation Free,
Marcia Griffiths,
U.S. Maple,
Organ,
Banda Bassotti,
Bang On A Can,
John Lydon,
Mars,
DJ Style,
Rapeman,
The Divine Comedy,
OOIOO,
Sexual Harrassment,
Pharoah Sanders,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Victims,
Tim Buckley,
ABC,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Black Sheep,
Ossler,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
X-Ray Spex,
Schoolly D,
Robert Wyatt,
Stiv Bators,
Matthew Halsall,
Cymande,
Pere Ubu,
Duran Duran,
Carl Craig,
Amon Düül,
Symarip,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Severed Heads,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Urselle,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Monolake,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Man Eating Sloth,
Ken Boothe,
Howard Jones,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
KRS-One,
B.T. Express,
The Angels of Light,
Warsaw,
The New Christs,
The Evens,
Barry Ungar,
Radiopuhelimet,
Lyres,
Robert Görl,
DNA,
Jandek, Jandek, Jandek, Jandek.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.